


Thread

by jaradel



Series: Check Please Twitfics [3]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Magical Realism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 20:43:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8342062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaradel/pseuds/jaradel
Summary: Jack gets stuck in his own head sometimes.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MapleleafCameo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MapleleafCameo/gifts).



> Another ficlet based on a twitfic I wrote.
> 
> Disclaimer: Characters belong to [Ngozi](http://ngoziu.tumblr.com), creator of [Check Please!](http://omgcheckplease.tumblr.com)
> 
> Many thanks to [MapleleafCameo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mapleleafcameo), who gave me a little nudge to flesh this out into a ficlet, and put a magical realism spin on it. <3
> 
> Unbeta'ed, all mistakes are my own.

* * *

 

Sometimes Jack gets lost in his own head. It is a side effect of anxiety, making him question every choice, every action, and it sucks him down like a maelstrom into the past, where he goes further and further back, questioning, second-guessing, doubting.

There was a time when it seemed that there was no way out. When he hit rock bottom, and almost lost it all.

Jack clawed his way back to the land of the living; a slow and painful journey out of his head and into the world. He still bears the scars, still treads carefully around the bottomless pits in his mind that threaten to engulf him. He spent several years after his overdose trying to stay _out_  of his head. Filling his time with schoolwork and hockey, driving himself to be the best, always the best, oblivious to the effect that it was having on his family, his team. Spending so much time sitting on the edge of the abyss wore on him, made him brittle, sharp around the edges.

And then a hockey-playing baker comes into his life.

It is not an instant friendship. They bump up against each other's rough edges for most of that first year. But something happens as they kept colliding - their edges become smooth, polished, like the ice they spend so much time on together. They become a team - not just the hockey robot and the baker, but everyone. Jack learns and grows, and in the final moments of a hockey game, when he thinks he's made the gravest of mistakes, the first strands of a gossamer thread begin to weave themselves together.

Weaving a thread, a link, takes time. It doesn't happen overnight. There are snags along the way, but over the course of Jack's senior year, it grows, strengthens. Jack can feel it sometimes, especially late at night; a heartbeat that is not his own, but that beats in time with his. He shouldn't be able to hear Bittle breathing across the hall, but he does; it soothes him, like listening to the breeze through the trees, or soft rain pattering against the window. He falls asleep most nights to the quiet music of Bittle in his head.

He knows, without knowing, that Bittle is outside his door that night when Kent stops by. He knows, and is ashamed. If he can feel Bittle's presence, it stands to reason that Bittle can feel his, and right now Jack is freaking out inside his head. He's ashamed, because the connection being forged between them is growing stronger by the day, which means Bittle can surely sense the turmoil in Jack's head. He doesn't wish that on anyone, but more than that, he hopes it doesn't sever the connection.

His fears are assuaged, even as he sits with his back to the door, trying to get his mind back under control. He can feel warmth along the thread; concern. No anger, no disgust. Jack breathes deeply, willing himself to calm down, and sends his gratitude back along the thread.

Spring semester begins, and although there's no reason for him to take another class with Bittle, he does anyway. They study together, they walk to and from campus together, they drink more coffee at Annie's together than Jack's had in all his years at Samwell. Every time he picks up the thread, it's stronger, warmer. He hopes Bittle feels it too.

He knows something is wrong at graduation. It isn't the hug by the pond, or Bittle's overly cheery good-bye; the thread is practically vibrating with a sense of sadness, of a loss so pervasive that it stuns Jack. The thread has been a source of warmth and happiness all year; why is it now enshrouded with grief?

It only takes a few words from Papa to bring it all together for Jack, as he tears across campus, black robe flapping behind him. He's running through the Haus and up the stairs to Bittle's room, and - he's not there. But the grief, the sadness, is overwhelming.

A choked sob tells Jack he's not alone, and he turns, entering his old room, where Bittle is weeping quietly. The grief is still there, and something else, something Jack failed to notice before - _love_. And saying nothing more than his name, Jack shows Bittle that he feels the same way. The moment his lips touch Bittle's, the thread vibrates, like a violin string that's been plucked. It rocks Jack to his core, and he wonders if Bittle feels it too, and then Bittle is kissing him back and oh, _yes_ , he does. The thread grows, still gossamer thin but stronger than steel, binding their souls to one another.

Jack still gets lost in his head sometimes, but it's different now. He no longer fears the abyss, because he has a way out - he just needs to follow the thread, and his heart.

 

 


End file.
